


Awake

by Desdimonda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gency, One Shot, Pre-Overwatch dissolve, prompt, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 06:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6894568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji wakes up too early to his new body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awake

“Dr Ziegler, his vitals are spiking - I think -”

Mercy turned from her open file, dropping her pen as she abandoned a sentence.

His hand twitched, tugging on the wires protruding from his exposed arm, it’s casing lying at the side.

“He’s not ready,” she said, her words broken with a tremor as she approached the man laid out on the bed. Mercy stared at the screens, the numbers flashing erratically, displaying exactly what she didn’t want to see. The noise they made permeated the air, loud, frantic, but not loud enough to drown the rapid beat of her heart as it thump, thumped against her chest.

His hand twitched again, tugging on the wires.

“The anaesthetic-” she said, turning to her assistant who had cast aside their tablet and was hovering by the intercom.

“It’s still in through IV, Dr - I -” she said, her finger hovering by the com button. 

The monitor’s beeps were increasing, ringing through the air, as Mercy scrambled for a new vial of anaesthetic. “He can’t wake up yet - he can’t,” she repeated to herself, her hands trembling as she pushed the needle through the top of the vial and began to withdraw the clear liquid, as steadily as she could.

His hand twitched again; and so did his other, several wires that protruded from his arms scratching against the bed’s edge. 

“I’m calling for he-”

“ _I have this_ ,” she bit, casting aside the empty vial. 

She didn’t. 

The arm no longer twitched, it moved, it pulled against the wires, severing their connection with a hiss; with a spark. He cried out, his voice harsh, ragged from not being used. And then with his other arm, the cybernetics exposed, he tore it free from it’s binds too. 

> _Hanzo’s blade was sharp, unforgiving, just like his words. He didn’t hold back, and neither did Genji. He couldn’t, or he’d die. The blade caught his chest, a deep gash tearing at the skin._

And without another second, without a questioning word, Genji lunged from the bed, an outstretched hand grabbing Mercy by the throat, and slammed her against the wall.

“H-Hanzo,” he said, trying to form the word. It was a slur, staggered, the lower half of his jaw no longer flesh, but metal. “Where. _Where_.”

Mercy gasped, the grip of his hand around her throat like a vice. She dropped the syringe to the floor, and with her ragged, bitten nails, she claws at his metal hand, trying hard to pry it off her neck.

> _He was safe here. A breather. A rest to gather his strength.  
>  No.  
> A whistle sung in through the air and then in a breath, the arrow hit the wood by his face, exploding, the fire tearing at his skin._

“C-can’t b-bre-” she tried, staring, wide eyed, into his face. 

A face she had tried to save. 

A face she had looked at, every day.

A face that had died before her. The last thing he had seen, was her.

_Why didn’t he remember?_

Genji stared at his hand, the fingers biting into her skin, almost crushing her flesh.

His lips parted, and he relinquished his hold, but he did not step back. His gaze was erratic. They stared at the exposed wires and metal that were now his arms; he stared at the welts that were appearing on - on this woman’s skin; he stared to the side, where footsteps approached; one, two, three armed guards appeared, pointing their rifles towards him; he stared at her, at her eyes.

> _“All you had to do was follow an order, Genji,” said Hanzo, his words slow, quiet, as he towered over him, the drip, drip of blood falling from the tip of his blade._

Genji curled his hand to a fist and slammed his arm against her collarbone, a fresh wave of memory, of anger rippling through his - this body.

“Where am I?” he asked, the words barely audible.

The guards stepped closer, unlatching the safety of their rifles.

“ _Stand down_ ,” ordered Mercy, glancing to all three, before turning back to Genji, the arm against her chest biting, sharp, the exposed wires brushing against her chin.

“Overwatch,” she said, breathless. “I-I’m Dr Angela Ziegler; codename Mercy. I helped you when - when your brother -”

“She saved your life,” said the assistant, hovering by the intercom, a pistol in her hand. “Let her go.”

Mercy sighed. “I said, _stand down_ ,” she said, looking to the guards who still held their rifles high. She turned to her assistant. “ _All_ of you.”

Exchanging glances, they did as she ordered and lowered their weapons. But didn’t move.

Genji’s eyes searched hers; for what? Answers. Answers to - to questions he could barely form.

But there was one he could.

“What am I?” he said, the words barely there; a broken whisper, shadowed by his memory.

Mercy lifted a hand to his arm, still pressed so forcefully against her chest. She would bruise, just like the welts at her throat. But she didn’t care. It was nothing compared to what Genji suffered; nor what now lay before him.

Nothing.

She wound her fingers around his hand, gently, unable to still the tremble. 

“You’re alive,” she said.

Genji stared at her hand, watching the gentle caress glide over his metal fingers. He couldn’t feel it. Were her hands cold? Were they warm? He coiled a finger around hers, trying desperately to feel _something_. 

Because all he felt now, was nothing.

Nothing.


End file.
